Week 7: Sunday Service Announcements
This is my prayer Lord, that I pray each and every day, that you would GUIDE my footsteps...Lord, I need you to direct me along the way oh Lord, be a fence around me everyday.
Church family, I want to ask you a question…
Who is driving your ship?
Are you in control or have you allowed God to take the wheel and lead your footsteps?
Take a moment right now and ask yourself, if you had a fence of protection all around you from your greatest fears would you give up control and let your Spirit take the lead toward what it desires?
What if…it worked out?
What if…your life changed for the better?
What if…the people you are holding on to returned better once you let them go?
What if…all your needs were always met whether you punched a clock or not?
What if…you experienced more of the things you desired?
What would it take for you to give into your Soul’s desires and allow your Soul to lead you on your path, honestly ask yourself do you even know where you are going or how to get there?
Four years ago I took that leap of faith and now my life looks the way I used to dream of experiencing it. The community that has been built here on BlackStack is a huge part of my dream. I’ve always felt that part of my purpose in life has been to connect people who would help each other grow. Since launching this second publication page my passion for learning and understanding how to scale our work has been the fuel driving me to keep building our network.
This past month, I’ve heard from so many of you about how your accounts have grown since subscribing and that’s what makes me keep going! I’m excited to extend something unique to our paid subscribers starting this month, and that’s a consultation with me to game plan how to scale your Substack publication page through the BlackStack community and network. Our admin team provides services and has special offers for the paid subscribers, y’all I have been working to make this community as valuable as possible for a Black writer.
On Juneteenth, when This Revolution Will Not Be Televised published, I didn’t think BlackStack would take off the way it has, but now that it has let’s make this revolutionary!
The ushers are looking at me to shut my mouth so they can pass the collection plate and we can get into this Sunday Service, let the church say Amen!
Amen!
God is my mother’s heavy hands and the sun in my eyes and the grace I give
Spiraling down a hill in Naples in the dark night of my new soul, an avatar of the Saint Virgin Mary beside me, I noticed graffiti’d in huge block letters the gospel: DIOS ES NEGRA. And as we descended into the secret obsidian beach illuminated by the waning crescent magic moon, I thought of my mother. How devoted her heart, how heavy and calloused her hands.
I was disappointed but not surprised to hear from Mary that prejudice exists here, too. I wouldn’t be bothered as I easily fit the bill of a rich traveling American, though I’m rich in spirit, not of earthly wealth. But immigrants from Africa would never be seen even driving a taxi cab here. One would be shamed allowing a Black person to marry into their Italian family, especially here in the South. Though niches dedicated to divinity and altars of an ancient God decorate every street corner, the tenets of the benevolent gospel have yet to pierce the hearts of most.
I’ve been witnessing Europe for almost three weeks and I’ve been studying America for almost three decades. Wherever you look there are roots of whiteness, or cracks in the walls where we have been torn down, even potholes in the roads where we have attacked ourselves. I’m aware of my privileges: appearing wealthy, having an able body, having an American passport, having a lucrative remote job, being educated, being masculine presenting. I’ve said my prayers and thanked the angels for every successful flight, train ride, encounter with police, walk through the night. The stars seem to align for me. I am favored because I am the direct descendant of God, She is my mother and She is also Black.
For as long as I can remember, I associated my mother’s hands in my hair with a blistering pain. I’ve been looking everywhere for the meaning of this pain, peeking behind shadows in the streets, searching the hearts of those open to conversing with me in my broken Italian/French/Catalan, reading the ancient texts of Saint Teresa and Augustine. All I’ve found were more reasons to be grateful to my mother for her wisdom, her guidance, even her harshness. All she ever wanted was for me to be greater than she ever had a chance to be.
And She wants me to write, to sing, to share. She wants us to have a voice: that’s why She gave us tongues and song. That’s why everyone else in the world emulates our music. We are dark because we are meant to stand out in the sun. We experience hardship because we are meant to be transformed into beautiful jewels like diamonds. Why do you think we adorn ourselves with them so often? She planted gems and precious stones in the land of our ancestors because She wanted us to discover and display the fruits of the battered earth on our battered bodies.
“The moon is shining right upon you,” Mary whispered in awe as I sank beneath the gentle black waves; and she said it again when the sun began to rise behind the volcano, hours later, after I’d cut my foot on a shell, and my blood separated from me in the waters. I kissed my own skin and tasted the salt of the saints buried beneath us. In Valencia I asked my friend M. while we danced on the tides, “Do you think we get to choose when the moment of our death comes?” The sun behind her, she studied me for a moment and asked me, “Do you think your grandmother Gloria chose to leave the moment that she did?” And she was right to ask me, because I wanted to be asked, though I didn’t know it. I didn’t have an answer but the sun went into my eyes at that second, piercing me with the ecstatic presence of Goddess, and I knew the answer without knowing: Yes.
The same way all of us chose to be Black before we knew what a choice was. The same way we choose to wake, to write, to wrap each other in love, to persist, to resist, to seek each other from birth to death.
Black is all of the colors at once, as God is all of the world in one eminence, more intimate to us than we are to ourselves (Augustine).
I’m looking for God everywhere and all I’m finding is myself and my repetitive choice to be myself, wholly myself and no one else, just as I was born and made to be. And I am the mirror of you. And we are the fruit of all our mothers.
Anderson II is a Black writer, artist, and licensed psychotherapist. At this time Anderson is available for creative consultations and short-term coaching sessions on a case-by-case basis. Contact him for more information.
Follow Anderson’s endless self-exploration and excavation of this Earth on METROPOLIA, an urban journal.
God Said This Is A Call To Soften.
I want to stand corrected more often, in this season of my life.
I want my worst fears to be wrong every time.
I dream of my assumptions being challenged with tenderness.
Like a morning wave on the Atlantic, softly nudging the sand before sunrise.
Lately I have been thinking about my relationship with feeling safe.
I have been asking myself what “safe” feels like in my body.
What “safe” looks like in my world.
As a black queer woman, it is hard to put my finger on at times. Hard to name.
It is so much easier to name the things that make me feel unsafe.
The lack of safety makes me feel dizzy and like the world does not value me.
If the world does not value me, how can I learn to?
Maybe this sounds intense ( I am intense lol) but it is something that deeply concerns me. What lies are we being told about ourselves in a society that does not see us as worthy of protection, care, or just basic safety?
Recently, after recovering from a major surgery I began to travel the city on my own again. I started taking the subway train to and from Manhattan just as I have for nearly two decades.
But this time things felt different.
This time I needed to be vigilant. Hyper-vigilant. There were men that I did not know, everywhere…
I was approached by a man in the subway station and then harassed by a man on the train. He led with a compliment and cursed at me because he did not feel well received. What made this heartbreak worse was that he was a black man.
I was so tired of protecting my neck. So when someone walked up to me to sell me a candy bar, I nearly lost it too.
I broke out in a sweat while my body tried to decide if it would fight or fly.
War on the inside and outside.
I was ashamed of my fears and yet I still felt too fragile and physically incapable of defending myself. I have always prided myself on my ability to do this so what was really good?
What felt worse than the heartbreak and fear that a man would harm me in the subway station was the fear that other men would stand by and watch it happen without intervening.
As a person who is usually perceived as queer at first glance, it was a sad thing to consider. How would I ever navigate the city one day while pregnant? Or aging? Or hurt? Or exhausted? I was already having a horrible time just running an errand.
After a day out in the city, I usually have to go home to care for myself. To remind myself that I deserve the love and care that I probably did not get while out in the world.
There are some days when I am unable to. Where the lies that the world tells us about ourselves and our value, win.
I am not proud of this.
But I want to stand corrected more often, in this season of my life.
I want to feel safe and protected around men that I do not know.
I want my worst fears to be wrong every time.
For the stories to have happier endings.
I dream of my assumptions being challenged with tenderness.
Like a morning wave on the Atlantic, softly nudging the sand before sunrise.
This piece is a call to soften.
A call to tenderness.
A call to together.
A call to care.
A call to protect.
A call to be soft places to land, like the grass beneath the blooms whose petals will eventually fall and become a part of the earth again.
And again
And again
This is a call to be home to each other.
Tangina Stone is an artist, writer, and musician based in Brooklyn, NY. You can read more of her writing by subscribing to “Deeply” here on Substack.
8th Commandment Is Broken
Paid Subscriber,
Thou shall not steal.
Welcome, welcome. I’m glad to be amongst you here on this fine Sunday. I wanna get right into it. I’m discussing an important topic today. Something very prominent in our community. And that is the concept of “making” money. Or for those of European ancestry who put us in chains “taking” money. The idea of making (taking) money is something we all base our lives and human value off of. A concept we learned from those who conditioned our value systems and way of thinking. Some of the most powerful European empires have funded countries, movements, and systems through their mysterious money making practices. Practices that fuel our money hungry nature and strategies today.
But I want to discuss some of those early strategies. Families like the Medicis who are historically powerful in Italy. The Medicis are the banking power that funded the Vatican and essentially expanded Roman Catholicism throughout Europe and the world. But how exactly did the Medicis acquire this wealth that allowed them to influence and grow this religious organization we pray to every Sunday? What is it that funded the blood of christ we drink and the stained glass window artwork we marvel at? The idea of banking as developed by European powers is very similar to what exists today. The use of currency to invest in materials and give out loans to people for a price. They use money to create more money. It’s really that simple. I loan you money and you pay me for the money I give you. Not very intuitive is it? It sounds a lot like a scam. Just like how today’s credit scoring system is a scam. The Medici bank was founded in the 14th century and was one of the most respected banks in Europe. The entire system of currency is based on fraudulent practices because one small group of people is in charge of deciding how much things cost. They decide when and how to take your money and they use deception to do so. But their abundant access to wealth allows them to invest in these strategies so we would never know we are being deceived. They use their money and influence to rewrite tax codes in their favor so they can lie and cheat without facing any legal ramifications. Something we would never be able to do.
But we get vilified for our scams. Because they aren’t as clever. Unfortunately we are not as clever with our crimes because we don’t have the system in our favor. But damn we make it look real good. My introduction to banking and finance came when I was in about 8th grade and I heard a song called “Zoe God” that basically broke down the process of phony check fraud. The irony is that the “real” checks are phony as ever. That money sitting in our bank accounts is being used by the banks to buy private jets, yachts, and what have you. And at any moment if the Bank fails you’re shit out of luck. You actually have to get permission to use your own money. Picture that. You have to pay an ATM fee to access your own fucking money. And we are the scammers? Zoe God explained the process of sending an attractive woman to deposit the fraudulent check. But you have to find a “head” to let you use their bank account to do so. Then when the check clears you withdraw the money as soon as possible before the bank gets wise. Now you have a choice. You can either cut the “head” in and pay him a percentage as promised for letting you use his account. Or you can run off with the money and tell him that the scam didn’t work. As his account will get closed down anyway. When you run off, that’s the zoe. I’m not saying this to give information because at the end of the day we’re in 2024 everyone knows about this shit by now. But I’m tryna tell my people, we are all a fucking “head.” The banks are treating us like a zoe and they’ve been doing it for hundreds of years.
The saddest thing is the way these banks scam us is the entire reason we are able to commit fraud. The fact that we can digitally view available funds that aren’t actually there is what allows the fake checks to go through. Their delayed process of verifying the legitimacy of these checks is really set up to their benefit so they can use our money while it is deposited. These delays are really there to slow down our access to our money. But we are able to abuse that in reverse to defraud them. This is the type of shit I was thinking about while I was failing Accounting and Finance Principles and Quantitative Business Analysis which is why I had to take each of these classes twice in college. Even though I’m great at math and have a very in depth understanding of financial institutions. It’s because this shit made no logical sense to me when applied to real life. Until I made the connection to how this shit applies to MY real life and the finance principles I was raised on.
When your credit is in bad shape, companies offer you loans to pay it off. Why would I go into more debt to clear my debt? If I owe 20 grand, and I take out a 20k loan to pay off the 20 grand. I STILL OWE 20 FUCKING GRAND. They are treating us like fucking idiots. And these practices have been put into place many years ago by institutions like the Medicis and the Rothschilds and the Morgans. But when one of my guys takes a card and swipes it into an X6 and then they put new names and numbers on it with an embosser and try to use it in a department store; that’s a felony?? What type of shit is that? You all taught us how to zoe. When we get a CPN and open up a line of credit that’s a felony. But your lies and fraud are legal as long as you manipulate the law the right way. What the fuck does the law mean if it allows wealthy people to rob us, and we can’t rob them? FOR PENNIES. They rob us for billions a year and flaunt it in our faces. But if I catch me a lil 10k from EDD that’s a federal crime.
The moral of the story is, stack them chips y’all. It won’t be too many people like me that’ll tell you this. But this idiotic banking system can’t last forever. And free my guys that got jammed up for the fraud we didn’t invent this greedy bullshit we just adapted it because that’s what we’re shown. The hood didn’t make us greedy the powers that be made the hood greedy cause they took everything we built for them and gave us NOTHING in return, but access to crime and self destruction. And they continue to take every chance they get. So I’m not mad at you if you Zoe the head my boy wifey want a Prada bag you gotta get it for her. Peace.
If you want to make God laugh, tell ‘em your plans and see how your life pivots.
You know in church when the sermon would feel like the Pastor is hitting a little too close to home and you wonder why God had that man all in your business like that?
Tuesday morning before my family woke up, during my coffee & vibes time the city of Oakland woke up with the trains, buses, city downtown workers, and the seagulls coming back into the city from the bay beach just a 15-minute walk down Broadway. I just bought us some cheap headphones from Five Below mainly so I could focus on writing, but Spirit had other plans before I got started with MY plans.
You know that saying, If you want to make God laugh tell Him your plans, well that’s how this particular morning went. Sunday Service Announcements newsletter was not at the top of my list of to-dos on a Tuesday however Spirit wanted to get a message through to me.
Hold on my brother your change is going to come!
Be strong my sister for your work is not done.
When I heard, be strong my sister for your work is not done, I broke down and I knew exactly why. Although the “He/Him” in the song doesn’t resonate with me the beat, the words, and Kirk Franklin’s voice are all nostalgic to my spirit.
Gospel music carries the energy of Black culture’s faith, hope, drive, purpose, unity, forgiveness, love, and willpower to keep going.
Our culture is disconnected because we are disconnected from our vibrational rhythm. This is why music is so important to us, our ancestors hummed hymns to get through their oppression, and we do the same.
The language has changed because the message has changed, and the vibrational frequency has changed because we gravitated to the mainstream rather than staying underground.
Black gospel holds so much emotion and healing from the beat of the live instruments to the powerful sound of a choir singing with passion. Each person who sings gospel music sings with experience of how God has brought them out of something they had no idea how they would make it out. That’s how Kirk Franklin was able to get a choir to FEEL the words ‘HE’S ABLE’ because they KNOW God can do it!
Think about a time when you were moved out of a situation and you know for a fact it was nobody but God because you prayed and prayed for the Lord to move in this situation for you. And if you can’t think of one look around you because where you are right now you once prayed to be there, change your perspective if you don’t see it. (Get with me after service I can help you see a new perspective.)
I want to live in Heaven on Earth, I don’t want to spend my time on Earth preparing to live in Heaven's afterlife.
I used to pray to God asking for me to be normal and think like the rest of the world so I could have friends and be accepted. The older I get I realize that I am this way because I am one of the prophets who is here on Earth to debunk the idea that Heaven is somewhere in the sky with security and a check-in list.
We are conditioned to believe that we have to get ourselves together because we want to make it into Heaven. I know this is our conditioning culturally from experience. This song, Heaven, was the song I hand-selected and created a praise dance choreographed routine for my church when I was somewhere between eighth grade and ninth.
I remember the Pastor of the church keeping me in front of the church after performing with the dance team and telling me that I was a prophet and I would have my own missionary one day because God has His hand on me.
That church never saw me again nor did I ever dance on a praise team for a church again after that day.
The pressure was too much and that wasn’t the path I wanted to go down, although when you look at this community, and these newsletters I’m essentially doing what he said I would but in a way that’s authentic to me. These moments that I recall from my childhood and see the full circle moment in my adulthood I save as evidence that we can create Heaven on Earth.
Moving to California, writing and publishing a book, saying YES to my dreams in life, breaking free from the way everyone told me I should live my life, and starting to live for me was how I created my Heaven on Earth.
I debunk the mythology that we have to live through the suffering and struggles of Hell on Earth and there are only small pockets of people experiencing Heaven on Earth full of fruits of our labor. Yes, I said fruits of our labor because it’s not their labor that was sacrificed.
What if we got ourselves together to co-create our versions of Heaven on Earth? What would yours FEEL like? How would you spend your days? What does Heaven on Earth look like to you?
I almost gave up but a power I cannot explain fell from Heaven like a shower and ever since I haven’t been the same.
Last week, in Sunday Service Announcements Johanna touched a little on those moments when God doesn’t come through for us when we are expecting and this song brings up those emotions that I suppress myself during those times.
I can count the long list of times I wanted to give up followed by the words coming out of my mouth. In those moments I can attest to this power that cannot be explained that reset me, restored me, replenished me.
Alex shared with us her microfiction and artwork titled, Ghetto Snake, and the piece brought up emotions suppressed from my experience with a Ghetto Snake that left me ready to give up but that power that I can’t explain showered down over me.
I was browsing through old photos for my Hood Therapy Vol. 10 celebration and came across the photo that reminded me of the Ghetto Snake before I got to read the piece originally. A photo of me holding one of my favorite books, You Are A Badass, with a hospital wristband on my right wrist in the hospital bed.
Let me share this story with y’all…
Before I met my wife I was trying to give Black men another chance for the 100th time because since I can remember I like girls more than guys but I was raised on the “girls only marry boys” belief. So I was with this guy, who told me from the beginning he didn’t want a girlfriend, more kids, or to be married, and because I had no self-worth at that time I agreed to a year-long situationship with this man.
A couple of weeks before my birthday he ended things with me, and I was devastated. It’s embarrassing now when I tell the story but it’s the truth. I went into a bad depression and the only thing that forced me to carry on with life was the fact I had to take care of my daughter. So one day everything changed, I got a break and someone reached out to me about renting an apartment downtown. This was something I had been praying for the entire year I was dealing with this dude and not even a week later I’m FINALLY getting my dream apartment.
I knew I was done with him because clearly, HE was holding me back. Finally, my birthday comes around and I am feeling weird, I mean I took a pregnancy test on my birthday weird. At first, I thought it was my body responding to the suppressed stress I had been experiencing but nope the test determined that was a lie and I was pregnant…again…by another man that didn’t want me.
This is when I REALLY decided yep I’m out of here, Earth is ghetto I’m about to have two kids by two niggas that don’t do shit for the kids they already got, nope. I was on my one-way ticket to Hell I guess based on the belief that thou shall not unaliving themself.
But Spirit said no, take my hand. One month later I moved into my apartment with my daughter with only $3 left. We slept on the floor that night with no pillows until something happened to me that I never experienced before. The pain was so intense and the scene looked like a murder. I panicked and guess who I called, yep that nigga. It was 3 am I didn’t know who else to wake up with this kind of emergency other than him, so he came to pick me and my daughter up to drop me off at the hospital.
There was so much clarity that had showered over my body as I lay in that hospital bed silently crying. I went in fearful that I was about to lose what I thought was my last opportunity for another baby, my last shot at a family, I went into Moses Cone hospital while my daughter sat in the backseat of a man’s car who didn’t even THINK to stay to make sure I was okay.
The doctor came in with news that could only be explained next as but God…
I was pregnant but there was no baby. I was passing the sac that holds the baby but there was never a baby that developed. Chills went down my spine and the hairs on my body stood tall at attention. I was free and that pregnancy was the push Spirit knew would force me to keep going. By 5 am, I was in my Uber heading home with a guy that’s driven me from my Grandma’s house to downtown because that’s how I had been getting my daughter to school for the past year. We talked about the situation and he told me that it sounded like God was preparing me for something bigger and better. I told him I agreed and I was going to live the rest of that year like it was my second chance.
That was December 2022 and December 2023 is when I left my hometown for good to pursue my wildest dreams with my daughter and my girlfriend at the time, now wife. I smile even when life feels like it’s got me in a chokehold because I felt the presence of Source comfort me one too many times in my moments of wanting to give up. But I think about how God used a pregnancy to force me to get my shit together and on my first night in my apartment, the pregnancy ended. I think about how that pregnancy ending turned me into the woman I am today. I think about how that pregnancy is the reason I knew I didn’t want more children and that I would be so much happier with a woman. I learned about my truth with that pregnancy and I released my false identity when that pregnancy ended.
When I listen to the song Smile and they say, “Today’s a new day but there is no sunshine” I remember those days and I am here to tell you that on those days I promise if you reflect on how God has moved in your life you can find a reason to smile. The love and the joy that’s promised are not going to come from another person you have to find it for yourself first, then the person will find the happiest version of you. Start with a smile for me.
It’s true because of the unconditional love I experience on my dedicated path to my soul’s purpose and I choose to follow Divine guidance at all times only, life has brand new meaning and my days have gotten brighter as a result.
There’s something about this song that implants this strong belief that makes me feel like it is going to be a Brighter Day every time I listen to it. The horns in the song send goosebumps down my body every time I hear them and then the “I never knew I could be so happy…
….I never knew I’d be so secure because of your love life has brand new meaning!”
Today, just for today, start with a smile knowing that once you feel low the only way left to go is up, and let that be what makes your day just a little brighter.
Prayer Hotline
I pray you see all of your stolen greatness.
I pray you break free from the shackles that have been holding you back.
I pray you answer the call.
I pray you don’t give up.
I pray you find the courage and strength to ask for help.
I pray you create Heaven on Earth.
I pray you run up a check by being Black and creative.
I pray you embrace your privilege and use it to help your peers.
I pray you get an expected deposit in your account.
I pray you get a notification that your bill was paid in full and you ain’t the one who made the payment.
I pray things work out for you this week.
I pray you mentally, spiritually, and emotionally are fulfilled.
I pray that you know that I love you and that I mean it.
Amen. Amen. Amen.
New Paid Subscriber Post Spotlight.
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F.U.B.U. - Black Music, Vol. 1
The Blog Era, a moment in time, a secret underground where only those in the know were invited to spectate and participate. Studio 54 without the drugs. Magic City without the sex. The Tunnel without the violence. For the Web 2.0 generation, The Blog Era was a dreamscape of overwhelming abundance, t…
F.U.B.U. - Black Hair Stories pt. 1
Black hair is one of the most admirable things about Black culture.
Black Reads: Issue 004
What better way to announce a new newsletter hitting your inboxes this Friday curated by John Noire and Ricky Denham than here in Black Reads?
 | A guest post by
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 | A guest post by
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@Ason - made me think of one of my annoyances this week. I have money in a 401k if I tap into it early I get a 10% tax on it and the sum of money I use also gets income taxed. Why am I getting taxed on my own damn savings? This week I have been thinking about other accounts to rollover those funds so it’s useable as back up for other investments.
🎶🎶There’s a blessing in the storm (help me sing ittttttt) there’s a blessing in the storm!
Rain down all over…fa la la la la la….it falls on me 🙌🏽🎶🎶 — Blessing In The Storm (Kirk Franklin, Nu Nation Project)
I appreciate everyone for bringing us your anointed message. Peace and prosperity to you!